MY MOVIE SHELF: The Matrix Revolutions

The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order (Blu-rays are sorted after DVDs), by June 10, 2015.  Remaining movies: 32 Days to go: 23

Movie #408:  The Matrix Revolutions

Look, everything that’s wrong with The Matrix Reloaded is wrong with The Matrix Revolutions. The metaphors are painfully, hopelessly tortured. The logic is absurd and completely falling apart. The special effects are either overdone or ridiculous-looking or both. The story-telling is obtuse and heavy-handed. The fight sequences are long and boring. Et cetera.

My husband says that the two sequels to The Matrix were actually supposed to just be a single movie, but that the studio wanted it to be a trilogy, and so the one sequel was split into two, which may account for some of each film feeling drawn out or repetitive. He may be right, but I hardly think that’s an excuse for lazy filmmaking. Moreover, have the Wachowskis never heard of a two-hour movie? Both sequels run over that length by an amount that EASILY could’ve been cut from fight scenes alone. I’m not sure the reasoning behind it, but I know for a fact that for some reason a popcorn movie that clocks in at 1 hour, 59 minutes is exponentially more palatable than one that clocks in at 2 hours, 9 minutes. You wouldn’t think ten minutes would have that much of an impact, and yet if that movie doesn’t have something meaningful to say in those ten minutes (and a popcorn movie never really does) then they are ten minutes forever wasted. A person grows to resent those ten minutes.

Rest assured, The Matrix Revolutions has nothing interesting or profound or important to say. Instead it recycles messiah mythology so much that different parts of the film are recycling different parts of the myth, somehow resulting in being both confusing and obvious. Neo (Keanu Reeves) is Jesus, of course, and he sacrifices himself to save those who want to be saved. But first he’s revived from Purgatory (a circular train station) by the love of Trinity (Carrie-Anne Moss), I guess? And he has to be released by the Merovingian (Lambert Wilson), who is the devil lording over his literal den of iniquity? And Morpheus (Laurence Fishburne) is like head apostle, building the church of Neo in the center of Zion, metaphorically anyway. And Smith (Hugo Weaving) even literally calls Neo a Messiah, which I guess makes Smith the antichrist? Ugh. It’s seriously so bad and so all over the place and so dumb.

Speaking of dumb, the machine voice Neo speaks to at the end of the film is literally referred to (in subtitles and the credits) as the God Machine, Deus Ex Machina. I mean, that’s basically the Wachowskis themselves throwing in the towel saying, “You know what? Fuck it.” A Deus Ex Machina is a plot device in which everything sort of miraculously comes together at the end exactly the way the writers want it to without having to do the work of actually connecting all your story threads or anything. So to name your final character that is kind of admitting you have no idea where the hell this story is going anymore. It’s hilarious if you do it in Dodgeball; it’s insane if you do it in a movie that’s supposedly taking itself seriously.

I will, however, take a moment to praise The Matrix Revolutions for some things they do well. Once again, diversity gets a big win — across both race and gender lines. And religious lines too if you consider the fact that several of the Zionist (haha) characters don’t believe in Morpheus’s ideology or any of the prophecies. This film even expands the number of ethnicities featured, giving even more prominent roles to various Asians than the last one did. And when they need a super talented pilot that can take a ship through a narrow, harrowing passage at top speeds? They turn to Niobe (Jada Pinkett Smith), a woman. Usually even if women are given roles in action movies, they aren’t the specialists or the clutch players, but this movie has a few. Those are all really big deals, and I applaud the film for it. It’s important. I only wish it was done more in films that had a greater positive impact on popular culture, because frankly, this movie is crap.

At least, as the Zionists (haha) rejoice, it’s finally over. Hallelujah.

MY MOVIE SHELF: The Matrix Reloaded

The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order (Blu-rays are sorted after DVDs), by June 10, 2015.  Remaining movies: 33 Days to go: 24

Movie #407:  The Matrix Reloaded

Oh holy hell.

My husband’s favorite movie is The Matrix, which I can totally understand. It’s fantastic. But his undying love for the first one makes him more than a little forgiving of the two sequels. His official opinion is that they are not as bad as everyone says. I, however, think they’re exactly as insufferable as I remember.

One thing The Matrix Reloaded does really, really well, though, is diversity. People of color are everywhere, in  every level of society. There are captains and commanders and warriors of every race. There are leaders of both sexes. Everywhere you look — in Zion and within the Matrix — there are a wide array of people represented. This is a great step forward from the status quo, and I wish more movies would emulate this tactic. Its importance can not be understated. Unfortunately, basically every other aspect of the movie is preposterous and tiresome.

First of all, the religious undertones have become glaring, as Morpheus (Laurence Fishburne) pontificates on the importance of faith and how his beliefs are not contingent on anyone else following him but how they will prove to be the salvation of humanity regardless. Meanwhile, other captains of Zion (Zionists — haha), are skeptical of the prophecy, of Morpheus’s beliefs, and of the status of Neo (Keanu Reeves) as The One. This would all be fine, really, if it weren’t so heavy-handed. A lot of films have religious undertones and a lot of stories are allegorical interpretations of savior myths. But there’s a point in any work of fiction when the overt attempts to be symbolic become forced and clunky. The story ceases to be cleverly structured and instead feels like a shoe that doesn’t quite fit but which you’re painfully wedging your foot into anyway.

Another way The Matrix Reloaded fails to meet expectations set by its predecessor are in the visual effects. The Matrix was groundbreaking, and while the sequel was never going to be able to surpass that high of a bar, the least they could do was match it. In some ways, they come close. The car chase sequence is superb and the ghost-like transformation of the twins (Adrian and Neil Rayment) is fantastic, even if the logic behind them is unclear. But the scene where Neo and Smith (Hugo Weaving) fight on the rooftop goes from being fairly innovative to outright cartoonish. The CGI is obvious and disorienting and it completely takes me out of the film. Not to mention that fight sequence, as with all the others in the film (and there are SO MANY), is never-ending. They go on forever and ever, the same exact moves over and over again, ad nauseam. It’s so utterly tedious I can barely keep my eyes from rolling out of my head. It would be different if these nonstop fights had some sort of purpose or agency or stakes, but they don’t. Not one.

And, of course, the romance is still preposterous. I mean, there’s the super gross sex scene, which isn’t gross because it shows anything really, it’s just really gross juxtaposed with this orgiastic celebration scene in Zion, overlaid with porn music. It’s not sexy at all — even Neo’s orgasm face is entirely lacking in expression — and there still isn’t really anything to convince me of a tight emotional bond between him and Trinity (Carrie-Anne Moss). If I’m supposed to be moved by him reaching into her chest code and removing a bullet code, then massaging her heart code back to life, I’m sorry, but that’s not happening. It’s absurd.

Speaking of which, the extended computer language metaphors are even worse and more boring than the Christian allegory. And do not even get me started on the godawful code orgasm we get to witness from the center of a woman’s code vagina. NO NO NO NO NO.

I have one more movie to tackle in this mess, but that one is going to have to wait until morning. I need a break. The Matrix Reloaded gave me a throbbing headache.

MY MOVIE SHELF: The Matrix

The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order (Blu-rays are sorted after DVDs), by June 10, 2015.  Remaining movies: 34 Days to go: 24

Movie #406:  The Matrix

A very good friend of mine had seen The Matrix in theaters eleven times before I even knew it existed. It came out days before my first wedding and I wonder if I just had other things going on or if the early marketing and release of the film was super small or what, but I have no memory of it at all before the moment she and I were going to see something else weeks after my honeymoon and she mentioned it. Or crazily cackled about how fantastic it was and suggested we go see it instead. One of those. And for whatever reason I am historically resistant to any sort of over-the-top fandom. If you suggest something to me in a positive and logical fashion, making thoughtful arguments about its merits, I am 100% more likely to be interested than if you slather it with giddy praise. I’m not sure why. Maybe I’m backwards.

Anyway, I ignored my very dear friend’s obsessive infatuation and never once gave the movie another thought until I was babysitting for some lovely boys I knew from a daycare I’d worked at a few months earlier. When their parents came home their dad was talking movies with me and asked if I’d seen The Matrix. I demurred and he replied only with, “Oh, you should. We could be in the Matrix right now, you know” which somehow clicked in my head more than anything else and I made a point to drag my husband to the movies to see this one.

The Matrix is every bit as astounding as my friend said it was. I swear, I am such a goober sometimes.

The Matrix did incredible things with special effects, both large-scale (the frozen, rotating perspective, the super-slow motion bullets) and small (the liquified mirror overtaking the body of Keanu Reeve’s Neo, the skin growing over Neo’s mouth), but it also told an original and fascinating story. Who hasn’t woken from a dream that felt entirely too real? Who hasn’t been disoriented for a moment, sure that something in a dream — no matter how ludicrous — really did happen and now you’re awake to the consequences? Who hasn’t had a memory that they’re no longer sure really happened? Our minds play all kinds of tricks on us on a regular basis, and yet we’re forced to accept what it presents to us as reality because we have no other options. Our minds are the filter through which everything passes. What if they’re being manipulated from an outside source to lie to us? How would we know?

In essence, The Matrix is a philosophical story wrapped around a futuristic sci-fi one. The amazing special effects and the ability to manipulate the Matrix are simply trappings of the setting. The real theme of the film is enlightenment — having your eyes opened and reaching a greater plane of understanding of the universe. It’s a theological story too. Neo is called The One, but what he really is — what Morpheus (Laurence Fishburne) and Trinity (Carrie-Anne Moss) and the Oracle (Gloria Foster) are looking for — is a savior. Someone to free the world from their chains and set them free. There is even a Judas in this Jesus story, as Cypher (Joe Pantoliano) betrays them to the Romans (AKA Hugo Weaving’s Agent Smith, et. al.). And let’s just say it’s not a coincidence (nor is it a subtle reference) that Morpheus’s ship is the Nebuchadnezzar, named after the Biblical king. (See also: Morpheus is the name of the mythical god of dreams. Trinity stands for the holy trinity. Oracles were ancient prophets, whereas Neo — meaning new — is the second-coming.)

The story has holes in it, though. If the agents are so dead set against disruptions in the Matrix, how is the Oracle’s living room of crimes against the laws of physics allowed to exist? Why was Morpheus so sure Neo was The One? What did the Oracle say to him and how do we know she wasn’t lying? Speaking of which, is it not awfully convenient that she tells Neo he isn’t the one simply because that’s what he needed to hear? I mean, if your Oracle goes around telling you falsehoods, how do you trust her? Not only that, but Neo finds his power when Trinity tells him she loves him, which proves he’s The One because the Oracle said so. First of all, what kind of garbage is that? We’ve already established that we can’t trust the Oracle. Beyond that, though, the actual events of the film give no supporting evidence AT ALL to the idea that Trinity loves Neo except some occasional googly eyes. At best, I’d be willing to except that Trinity is hot for Neo, nothing more. On the romantic front, it’s just incredibly weak storytelling.

And of course, once you try to take a metaphor too far, it starts to fall apart. But that’s more an issue for the sequels. By itself, The Matrix is an impressive, thoughtful, mostly stellar piece of filmmaking with only a few weak spots. It’s earned its spot as one of the last century’s most iconic, groundbreaking movies, and I’m really glad I saw it.

MY MOVIE SHELF: Captain America: The First Avenger

The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order (Blu-rays are sorted after DVDs), by June 10, 2015.  Remaining movies: 77 Days to go: 52

Movie #363:  Captain America: The First Avenger

Of all the Avengers with their own individual movie franchises, Captain America (Chris Evans) is my absolute favorite, and the Captain America movies are as well. Unlike Tony Stark and Thor, Steve Rogers is an underdog, a weakling. He doesn’t win fights, he doesn’t win girls, and he’s not actual or even figurative royalty. He’s just a guy — an average, undersized guy with an oversized heart, an oversized will, and more courage than even the God of Thunder. In this way, Captain America is a uniquely American folk hero — a scrappy little underachiever who proves himself worthy of greatness and is rewarded, by way of a super secret scientific serum, with the body and strength to match his sense of duty and determination.

This is the America people like to believe in, the America of lore, and particularly the stars-and-stripes gung-ho America of the 1940s in which Captain America: The First Avenger is set. I’m certain this America only exists in stories, in nostalgic memories of people who may not have even been alive at the time, of the so-called Greatest Generation. I have no doubt of the greatness of some of the people at that time, of course, but I also know that people are people, and humans are humans, and just because stories of dissent and apathy and disillusionment aren’t told, it doesn’t mean they didn’t exist. That being said, however, the image of 1940s America is firmly entrenched in our collective minds at this point as a time of noble sacrifice and patriotic empowerment. It’s a feel-good story that endures. And it perfectly embodies the image that Captain America himself — the concept of Captain America, that is — aims to fulfill. Luckily, it all comes together perfectly in the film to create not only a rousing superhero picture, but a decidedly bolstering one.

But Captain America doesn’t serve to just reinforce the idealized Allied soldiers of WWII, it seeks to augment them. Steve Rogers is himself a super soldier, thanks to the efforts of super scientists Dr. Erskine (Stanley Tucci) and Howard Stark (Dominic Cooper), but what he received through science, Peggy Carter (Hayley Atwell) already possessed in her DNA. Carter is herself a super soldier — not through artificial means but through sheer force of fearlessness and skill. Whether she’s cold-cocking an insubordinate soldier bent on sexual harassment or staring now a madman in a car headed straight for her, Peggy Carter is no one to be messed with. She’s every bit a match to Roger’s own vim and vigor, and more compelling than their blossoming attraction is simply how impressed they are with each other’s courage and abilities. When Peggy interrupts a sexy Natalie Dormer coming on to Steve, she wastes no time expressing her frustration with him — by shooting directly at his new shield. She knows what she wants, that one, and she doesn’t have to be coy to get it. She’s AMAZING.

Of course, a super soldier needs a super villain to contend with, and that’s where Johann Schmidt (Hugo Weaving) AKA Red Skull comes in. Harnessing the power of the mythical yet all too real Tesseract, Red Skull has not only Captain America’s same super strength, but also super weapons to vaporize his enemies and the enemies of Hydra — a force even deadlier than Nazi Germany that costs a lot of lives — including Dr. Erskine’s — and costs Steve his best friend Bucky (Sebastian Stan). Schmidt and Hydra are formidable foes, not only for this film, but for other Marvel films as well, tying the whole universe together in a satisfyingly neat little bow — making the entire Marvel universe both easier to follow and to be invested in.

The true achievement of Captain America, however, is unlike any other superhero film to date: It makes me cry. When Steve sacrifices himself for the good of the people, as he was always destined to do, and he and Peggy share a painful goodbye disguised as a “see you later,” there are legitimate tears in my eyes. When Cap wakes up in modern New York City after seventy years asleep, I’m inconsolable. I want nothing more than a life in which Steve and Peggy get to share those 70+ years blissfully married to one another, saving the world and sexing it up. Think what a great world THAT would be.

Captain America is an origin story, a war story and a chaste romance all rolled into a comic book superhero film. And Steve Rogers is a fearless, flawless, idealized hero — the greatest of the Greatest Generation — never aging, never slowing, never backing down. I love him. And I love this film. He’s the star-spangled man with the plan!

MY MOVIE SHELF: The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers

The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order (Blu-rays are sorted after DVDs), by June 10, 2015.  Remaining movies: 87 Days to go: 59

Movie #353:  The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers

The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers is a movie without beginning or end. And by that I mean that it starts in the middle of things, and it ends in the middle of things. You aren’t even given the satisfaction of the story of Rohan or the claimed victory at Helm’s Deep, because at the end of the movie Sam (Sean Astin) is telling Frodo (Elijah Wood) how any victories or losses right now are not the end of the story, and there’s far, far more to go.

The Two Towers even backtracks a bit, starting off with Gandalf (Ian McKellen) fending off the thing in the mines from Fellowship, I suppose to show how he ended up not dead and turned into Gandalf the White, though in this first scene they frame it as a dream of Frodo’s. And Aragorn (Viggo Mortensen) flashes back as well to the time in the first film when they were all in Rivendell and Arwen (Liv Tyler) was promising her heart to him. Better off her dad Elrond (Hugo Weaving) convinced her to head to the Undying Lands, though, the way Aragorn and Eowyn (Miranda Otto) make eyes at each other the whole second half of the film. (And again, Arwen and Eowyn are too closely related, sound-wise. Are there not the full complement of letters in Middle Earth?)

When I first saw this one in the theater, all I could really follow was the not-at-all subtle anti-industrialization allegory offered up by the tree people, which is pretty irritating. I mean, it’s an irritating attempt at profundity anyway, but it’s also irritating that the story is so hard to follow. It jumps back and forth, across multiple storylines and even more locations, and I simply can’t keep up. Even with the subtitles on tonight — a necessary function, if I’m able to follow a word — I still found it difficult to keep track of every character and every relationship and every motivation and every event. Though I did much better this time around, at least. Woo, subtitles!

Of course, subtitles are their own double-edged sword, because while they allow me to understand that Gimli (John Rhys-Davies) has jokes, and that he and Legolas (Orlando Bloom) have a bit of a playful rivalry, they also make it pretty clear that Gimli has turned into a bit of a joke himself, comic relief as the short little dwarf who can neither see a battle over a wall or jump into it from a ledge. Poor Gimli.

The primary achievement of The Two Towers, though, is Gollum, voiced and acted via motion-capture technology by Andy Serkis. The effects and the rendering of Gollum are exemplary, and I don’t take anything away from Serkis or from Peter Jackson and his whole special effects team with regard to this film or the other two, honestly. It’s a stunning achievement. I just … don’t care.

Not being a big fan of the hobbits to begin with, I’m unaffected by Frodo’s slow descent into madness or his sympathy for the man/creature Smeagol that Gollum used to be. I also don’t care about Sam’s endless attempts to reach Frodo or to thwart Gollum, though I do feel bad for Sean Astin being referred to as the “fat hobbit.” That’s rough. Honestly, as crazed and threatening as Gollum is, I kind of root for him in my own way. He’s far more interesting talking to himself than either of the hobbits are talking to each other, and the idea of “her” killing the two, thanks to Gollum’s manipulations, is a rare bright spot of hope in my journey through these movies.

And there is hope, for Two Towers is the Lord of the Rings film I hate the most, which means that Return of the King will be a slight improvement, and then I will be done with the whole enterprise. So let’s get to it.